The History of Philip Ojomo
by AlejandroK
Summary: The Wraith is my favorite character in Dead by Daylight, and I wanted to create a backstory for him that was more in-depth than the official one. Please leave constructive criticism, as this is the first story I have written in a very long time.


When I was a young child, my father taught me the very importance of a human life. He was a good man. He worked exhaustively in an attempt to support my mother and I at home. Often, my mother would have to care for him when he came home because he couldn't walk after a long day of labor. I looked up to him. He was like a superhero to me. But when I was a teenager, he was killed in an accident with new machines they were introducing at his work. I was filled with anger and grief at the carelessness of the people in charge at his job. My grades in school declined, and I became more violent in general. This continued until I was 15, when my mother got a new husband. He seemed charming the first time we met, and I looked forward to having him in our family. But shortly after his marriage with my mother, I saw his true nature. He didn't want to work, forcing my mother to get a job at the local factory. Working conditions were horrific for her, and I cried many times when she came home with cuts and bruises. I blamed this all on my step-father. I confronted him about it one day when he was drunk. He gave many excuses, until I was screaming at him. He got up and struck me in the face. I fell to the floor, took one last look, and went to my room. I packed up everything that I had and left. I never saw him or my mother again after that. With no money to my name, I was forced to spend all day on a street corner begging for money. Eventually, I had gathered enough to pay for a fare to a distant country. I got on the ship and left behind everything that I had grown up with. When I arrived, I was filled with happiness for my future at this new country. I embedded myself in a small town. I made a name for myself, and everyone knew me as a kind young man who was always willing to help someone in need. But I eventually found that I need to find a way to make money. I sent applications to many different businesses and companies, until I received mail from one man. He identified himself as Mr. Azarov, and informed me that I was fit to work at his business, which demolished automobiles. I was more than happy, and I took the bus there every day. It was a very simple job. I just had to operate the crusher. A car went in, and a small, metallic cube came out. And I was making a reasonable amount of money. For the first time in many years, I was happy with my life. But one day, tragedy struck. Business was going as normal, but then I heard a cry come from a car I was preparing to put in the crusher. I opened the trunk, and a young man was inside, hands tied behind his back and his mouth gagged. I was shocked. I untied the bonds and he showed gratefulness before starting to run. He only managed a few feet before my boss, Mr. Azarov, stepped out from behind a stack of cars and slit his throat. I was shocked. I confronted him and asked what was going on. He said this was business as usual, and that it was a special "service" that they provided to certain "clients". Remembering my father's lessons, I flew into a fit of rage. I restrained Mr. Azarov and threw him into the crusher. As his mangled body was coming out of the other end, I pulled his skull and spine out of it. I then ran into some nearby woods. My rage was over, and I was in a state of panic. I was holding part of my boss's skeleton. How was I going to explain this to the police? But then, I heard a voice. "Come with me…" it croaked. I went towards the source. I heard more indistinguishable voices surrounding me, and found that I was being covered in a black mist. My chest was being crushed, and I passed out because I could not breathe. When I woke up, I was in a forest. The skull and spine of Mr. Azarov were still in my hand, but they had somehow been turned into a weapon, with fine blades protruding from the skull. I had somehow acquired a bell with a skull on the top of it. I struck it with my hand, and my vision was suddenly surrounded by more black fog. I looked down, and my body was merely a shimmer. I then heard more voices, but this time, they were giving me instructions. Instructions to kill. They showed me people like Mr. Azarov, and informed me that I would be "punishing" them. I snapped, and agreed to do whatever these voices wanted. I then saw a man in the distance. I went to him, eager to carry out whatever punishment I needed to.


End file.
